


Old Buddy, Old Pal

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-19
Updated: 2006-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: A meeting of three friends





	Old Buddy, Old Pal

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://luzdeestrellas.livejournal.com/profile)[**luzdeestrellas**](http://luzdeestrellas.livejournal.com/). Happy [belated] Valentine's day!   


* * *

Sirius is restless. The leaves are tumbling, end-over end, outside the window; caught in the breeze that never seems to stop. He can't focus on the pages of his textbook, doesn't want to even think about the four-foot essay that Professor McGonagall has assigned them on the principles behind Animagi transformations.

The reasons for his restlessness are beside him. One on either side, if you want to get technical about it. The one on his left has disheveled dark hair. His head is pillowed on his folded arms, glasses resting on a half-finished essay. Every now and then, his shoulders shake with a snore.

Remus is working on his right. He's so close to Sirius that he can feel the hair bristling on the back of his arm. Carefully, he's slid a little further under the desk so that Remus can't catch an accidental glimpse of his lap.

""I can smell it, you know," Remus says casually, almost idly, after watching Sirius shifting awkwardly on his chair, almost like a cat on a hot tin roof.

"What?" Sirius manages to sound both alarmed and innocent in the same breath.

Remus puts his quill down carefully, so as not to mark his parchment, and turns to Sirius. "I can't really. But you've been squirming like you did the day James put billywigs down your pants for the last twenty minutes, and he's not awake and giggling - so it's obvious." He punctuates this statement with a little shrug, and Sirius frowns.

"Um, I'm not quite sure what you mean," he replies, trying to appear innocent for as long as possible.

He's still waiting for a reply when Remus turns to face him, cupping his face in those hands, the ones he's woken in a fevered sweat after dreaming about for the last month.

Opening his mouth to protest, his first thought is that he's drowning in rose petals as Remus' lips cover his and his eyelids fall shut. He can still feel Remus' fingers on his cheeks, taste him in his mouth, the chocolate and burnt sugar flavour that he's never smelt on anyone else.

Automatically, his hands move up to tangle themselves in Remus' hair, tugging lightly on it as it wraps like seaweed around his wrists. Lips and teeth and tongue are battling it out between them, now, in a frantic clash of muffled grunts and the occasional 'ouch' as Sirius gets a little too excited and nips Remus' lip harder than he meant to.

Through tugging and encouragement, Sirius ends up straddling Remus’ lap, the tip of his cock just brushing against Remus’ stomach through his pants, the rough material frustrating him.

The funny little noise that Remus makes when Sirius nips at the base of his neck, just where it joins his shoulder, is his new favourite sound, he decides. It’s somewhere between a whimper and a grunt, and a hundred thousand times more delectable.

It’s also the noise that wakes James up, propelling him upright as he wipes at the drool crusted at the corner of his mouth with a finger.

“Huh? Whazzat?” he asks blearily, peering at the other two who are frozen in silence.

Sirius hopes that James is as blind as a bat without his glasses, that he can’t see the undone zippers or the wandering hands, the kiss-bruised lips and the buttons that somehow popped off Moony’s shirt and rolled away across the floor when he got a little too excited at the thought of seeing his nipples.

“Moony? Padfoot?” James asks slowly, and a little sadly, Sirius thinks. “What are you doing?”

Remus sighs and hides his face in Sirius’ shoulder.

“Um, kissing,” Sirius replies, and wonders why he feels a sudden urge to blush.

James gets up from the desk, shoving his chair in, and all the tiny hairs along Sirius’ spine bristle, although, of course, that maybe due to the swirl of Remus’ hands over his exposed chest.

“I can’t believe you started without me,” James grumbles, pushing them both back to the floor.

The clothes come off in a furious tangle, and it’s lipstonguesteeth everywhere, hands pressing and stroking and backs arching, and Sirius feels his toes curling as Remus strokes that one spot, that curve where hip meets thigh, and he opens his mouth to shriek or moan or whimper, but someone is already talking, a hitch in their voice, and he pauses to listen.

“Don’t stop, Remus, oh god, not, fuck – “ and in some part of his mind, Sirius realizes it’s his voice, he’s the one begging as James moves over him, lips hot against his neck, fingers pinching on his nipples and Remus slides down until Sirius feels his cock engulfed in slick wet heat, sliding with an irregular rhythm, and it’s too much, he’s bucking and convulsing against the stone flagstones, thumping his head and his heels on the ground as Remus draws out his life, sucking his very life away, as he screams into James’ mouth.

“Well. Was it worth it?” Remus wipes a small trickles of semen away from the corner of his mouth.

“I’d say it was entirely successful,” James replies, watching the rise and fall of Sirius’ chest. “Entirely successful,” he repeats, unable to keep the note of pride out of his voice.

“You fucking bastards,” Sirius’ voice comes from the floor. “You bastards. You planned this whole thing.”

James and Remus look at each other over his prone body. “No,” they say, too quickly and in unison. “No, we didn’t.”

“Sirius, old buddy, old pal,” James says, slapping Sirius on the chest to make him grunt, “I’m disappointed you would think that of your old school chums. I’m hurt, in fact that you think we would have the duplicity – “ His voice is growing louder as he embellishes this imagined slight.

“Save it,” Sirius injects, holding up a hand. “Can one of you get down here so I can suck his cock?”


End file.
